


Caught Up In Circles

by myuncleownsthistheatre



Category: Dungeons and Daddies (Podcast)
Genre: Darryl comes to terms with some shit, Fluff, God I haven't used ao3 in years this is embarassing, I don’t f with infidelity, IMPORTANT EDIT:, M/M, graphic slowdancing, this is assuming a scenario where Darryl and Carol have already ended their relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:54:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23597935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myuncleownsthistheatre/pseuds/myuncleownsthistheatre
Summary: I'll go on and on about relating to other characters but when I start writing I always need to be in Darryl's head. What's that about? Anyway here's this.
Relationships: Henry Oak/Darryl Wilson
Comments: 26
Kudos: 74





	Caught Up In Circles

The party had been Darryl’s idea originally, but when he’d brought it up he hadn’t actually expected anyone to take him seriously. All he’d wanted was a night off to celebrate and a chance to show the locals what a mean grillmaster he was, but cooking duties had long since been taken off his hands in favour of making he and the other dads guests of honour. All that was expected of him tonight was to dress nicely and show up. Unfortunately this was already starting to seem easier said than done. 

‘I don’t know, I just feel kinda ridiculous.’ He twisted in front of a broken shard of mirror in the cramped room that had been bestowed upon he and Henry as the highest honour. It was warm, at least, with the chimney running right through it from the blazing stove below. He was pretty sure they’d put Glenn and Ron in the attic. 

Henry hummed vaguely in response, and Darryl kept his eyes fixed on the mirror as he heard the awkward hopping noises of the other man dressing. The mirror reflected what he couldn’t help but think looked like a chubby bearded fantasy roleplayer who was way too old to be doing what he did. The tunic-like shirt was ill fitting and whatever the pants were made of was hairy enough to both look creepy and feel awful. He tried to unfocus his eyes.

‘Okay!’ Henry announced from somewhere behind Darryl, ‘What do you think?’

Darryl turned around and couldn’t hold back a laugh that bubbled up as his eyes found Henry. He was so used to seeing him in the same old t shirt and cargo shorts that any change of outfit would have been a shock, but the high waisted pants and flowy shirt combo was such an unbelievable shift it made Henry almost unrecognisable. But the thing was, he looked _good._ He looked really, really good.

‘Does it look stupid?’ Henry grinned, trying to blindly adjust the neckline of the shirt against his collarbones. 

‘No, it doesn’t look stupid! You look awesome!’

‘Well then what are you laughing at?’

‘I’m not laughing at _you_ , I just, I mean I’m-’ Darryl gestured helplessly to himself, ‘How come you look like that and they’ve got me in _this_?’

Henry squinted at him, tilting his head this way and that as he moved a little closer. ‘What’s wrong with all that?’

‘Go put your glasses on and look at me properly.’ 

There was a moment of fumbling and then-

‘Ah. Huh. I guess it might not be exactly your style.’

‘I look like Shrek.’

‘No, no, you don’t! You look like a total...rugged mountain man! You _look_ like an axe wielding barbarian, for sure. But maybe that’s not what we’re going for tonight.’ Henry was using his soothing voice, rounding out the corners of his words. Darryl sat down heavily on the bed and Henry followed, squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. ‘We can get you some different clothes. I’m sure there’s somebody else-’

‘I’m just starting to regret this whole party idea completely.’ Darryl sighed. ‘I don’t really feel like being centre of attention right now.’

‘I get the impression that people around here don’t really need much of an excuse to throw a party.’ Henry laughed. ‘I bet you they’ll probably have forgotten who we even are by the time we show up.’

Darryl looked back into the mirror, watching his features distort around a thin crack in the glass. His beard was way too long, his eyes were way too tired, and his hair was flattened weirdly against his head where his cap had been. He didn’t look like a hero. He didn’t feel like a hero. In fact, he _wasn’t_ a hero. None of them had been thinking about the lives of the villagers when they’d finished off the demon that almost wrecked the Odyssey, the whole thing had been total self-preservation. It felt nice to be appreciated, but the longer it went on the more sour it went. 

‘I need to trim my beard.’ Was the only part of this that he voiced, chin in hands. 

‘That, I can help you with.’ Henry’s hand turned to a firm pat and his voice turned energetic at the opportunity for a quick fix. Darryl watched him get up and rustle through his old clothes on the bedside trunk. He tried not to notice how well those pants fit, but he was failing by the time Henry triumphantly turned around with something in his hand - the shiny archaic scissors he’d used to trim his own hair. He handed it over as he walked towards the door.

‘You get to work on that and get rid of the...barbarian goat pants and I’ll go find you some proper hero’s garb, okay?’ And with that he was gone.

Darryl sighed into the empty room, twirling the scissors idly in his hands. He needed a new outfit, for sure, but what he really wanted was a hug. He thought of asking Henry for one when he got back. It’s not like he would say no. In fact, maybe he would want a hug too. Carol had once read him some factoid about humans needing 8 hugs a day to thrive or something, so it definitely wasn’t just a Darryl thing. A man needs to hold and be held or it starts to take its toll. 

Sometimes on the nights when he slept next to Henry, he wanted to hold him. Sometimes he lost sleep thinking about reaching out and taking some of that warmth for himself, about not having to worry about keeping distance anymore. Sometimes his arms started to ache just from keeping them by his sides.

The human body is some crazy thing when it’s lonely.

Darryl yanked the scratchy pants off of his legs and stood in front of the mirror in his underwear and the clingy wool tunic. 

_Snip, creak, snip, creak, snip._ He pared back his beard, watching the grizzled look fall away bit by bit. With each careful cut he watched the man in the mirror look younger, more and more like a past version of himself. Once again he looked like that stay-at-home dad on the soccer sidelines, who read the newspaper and drank in English pubs and wouldn’t know a dwarf from a drow if you asked him. Who’s marriage was bland but steady and who never even thought about spooning skinny hippie dudes in the dead of night. At least, not very often. He was so lost in his thoughts he almost forgot about the party predicament until Henry’s signature six-beat knock rapped on the door.

‘Hey, Darryl? I got some stuff. Are you decent?’

‘More or less!’ He called back, clawing his way forcefully out of his own introspection.

Henry reappeared with an armful of fabric. He stopped in his tracks, grinning appreciatively.

‘Look at you!’

‘Yeah.’

‘I almost forgot there was a face under there!’ Henry stepped a little closer, tilting his head as he noticed the traces of doubt left in Darryl’s expression. ‘Hey. You look great.’

‘Thanks, Henry. You got some pants for me?’

‘Unless you wanted to go with the Twiggy look?’ 

‘Somehow I don’t think that’s what the people want. Hey is that a cape?’

‘It’s a cape!’ Grinning, Henry unfurled a large wool cape with furred shoulders. ‘It still has little bits of animal on it but that just seems to be par for the course around here. And _these_ and this. I had to ask around a bit but I think I struck gold.’ There was a different tunic, a lighter material this time, and a pair of plain, dark pants. 

‘You really didn’t have to do all this.’ 

‘Of course I did! Well, maybe I didn’t _have_ to.’ Henry turned from smoothing the garments out on the bed and gestured enthusiastically at Darryl. ‘But, goshdarnit, you deserve to feel good! You’re the guest of honour!’ 

Darryl smiled, but he could feel it creasing all wrong. He knew he didn’t have Henry fooled for a second.

‘Something’s still not right.’ Henry observed.

‘I’m just tired.’ Darryl sighed. ‘I think I’m gonna lie down for a bit before I have to get ready.’ Without looking back, he sank onto the bed and lay down, trying to keep his feet off his carefully arranged outfit. He’d barely been laying there a minute before the bed rocked slightly and Henry was laying beside him, facing him, with his hands tucked up under his head.

‘You wanna talk about it?’ He whispered.

Darryl stared at the mattress for a little while longer before he found his words.

‘I just feel like. I killed a demon today. I mean we all did, I’m not taking credit-’

‘I know.’

‘But I swung an axe at a demon. I’ve swung an axe at so much stuff. I’ve hurt and killed more things in these past however many weeks it’s been...than the rest of my life. And now I’m a hero to these people. But I didn’t do it for them. I did it to protect the van, and to protect my friends and to protect myself. So I’m selfish. So I just kill for my own ends. When did that become who Darryl Wilson was?’ He looked up at Henry for the first time since he’d started talking and realised how long he’d been holding in those thoughts. All his breath came out in a rush. ‘Thanks for listening. That felt good to say.’

Henry was just looking at him. Darryl couldn’t tell if his expression was...empathy? Pity? Confusion? Then he sighed too. Caught his breath. Sighed again.

‘Wow.’ 

‘Is that a good ‘wow’ or a bad ‘wow’?’

‘It’s just a ‘ _wow_ ’, Darryl. Like, you’re totally- I never really thought about it that way. I _never_ thought I’d reach a place in my life where I’d have to destroy other lives to get where I was going. And now that I’m here I’ve just kind of...blocked it all out.’

Genuine fear, genuine regret and horror flitted across Henry’s face. They changed his features, a face that seemed to be built for smiling, and Darryl realised for the first time that Henry wasn’t above any of the turmoil he’d been dealing with alone. He was just one better at hiding it. Darryl had hid his feelings from the others, but Henry had managed to hide his feelings from himself. 

‘But, Darryl you’re not selfish. Everything you’ve done here has been to get Grant back. Heck, and to get my beautiful boys, and Nick, and Terry Jr. You’ve never swung an axe just because you felt like hurting something.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘Because I know _you_ . Sure, I haven’t known you for that long, but I think you can forgive me for saying it’s been a fricking intense enough time to count for _something_! I already know that you’re one of the kindest men I’ve ever met. Sure, you make mistakes, sure you lose your cool sometimes, so do I. We all do.’ Henry’s eyes were shining. ‘But everything you do comes from the heart and your heart is _good_. I’ve seen that. I really hope you can see it too.’

The sincerity in Henry’s words caught Darryl off guard. For a few moments he just lay there, soaking in the expectant silence. Henry’s hand crept forward and his pinkie brushed Darryl’s hand questioningly. And Darryl’s arms ached again. He took a breath.

‘Can I have a hug?’ 

Henry smiled and nodded, already scooting towards him. To Darryl’s surprise, Henry wrapped his arms around his neck, so that Darryl was the smaller one in the hug. He didn’t think he’d had a hug like that since he outgrew his mom in middle school, and he felt so strangely protected with his head on Henry’s chest that he could have cried. 

Slowly, Darryl closed his eyes. He relaxed his shoulders. He listened to the room, distant creaking and calling and quiet breathing. Why did they even have to go to the stupid party? They could just stay like that, reassuring hands and overlapping knees, until the sun went down, and then fall asleep in each other’s arms. But despite all of Darryl’s silent hoping, time passed and Henry gently pulled away and sat up.

‘We better get ready for this party, huh?’

‘Let’s see how this cape fits me I guess.’ Darryl was smiling but he was already stifling panic. Was that weird? Had he come across as weird? Was it weird how much he’d needed it? Push it down. 

Just two guys getting ready for a cool party.

The new outfit fit much better than the first, and was significantly more comfortable too. With the addition of the cape, Darryl had to admit, he felt...handsome. The look was actually kind of coming together. 

‘Where did you even borrow this stuff?’ He asked, facing the mirror head on. ‘I thought I asked all the men my size.’

‘I know right? I can’t believe we forgot about the butch lesbians!’ 

Darryl laughed, wondering what 6ft tall woman was going without a cape tonight for his sake. If he found her at the party, he would consider time sharing.

‘So,’ Henry asked, tenderness creeping back into his voice for just a second, ‘Are you ready to go be a hero?’

‘I’m still not a hero. But you know what? I’m ready to go be a guest.’

.

The party had already kicked off by the time Darryl and Henry arrived downstairs, and it was clear that the people of this town were no rookies. Flagons of varying degrees of emptiness lined every horizontal surface, and everywhere people were dancing to the music, dressed to the nines in capes, boots and billowing skirts of simple fabrics.

Glenn spotted them from the bar and waved them over. He had managed to snag a beautiful embroidered waistcoat, and Ron was beside him in a half cape and shirt that suited him strangely well. 

‘Hey, hey!’ Glenn crowed ‘Robb Stark!’

‘You know, I never actually watched Game of Thrones.’ Darryl replied.

‘Me neither, man, but, like. I have Twitter.’

‘Have you guys been here long?’ Henry asked, looking dubiously at the empty flagons on the bar beside them.

‘Eh, we’re a couple drinks in. Ron’s telling me all about _‘synergy’’_

‘It’s like energy.’ Ron piped up earnestly, ‘But more sincere.’ 

‘We might have some catching up to do.’ Henry muttered, signalling the innkeeper. 

The inn was stocked with ale that was almost close enough to beer to be comfortingly familiar, and Darryl drank toasts and mingled with drunk townspeople. The weight of the cape on his shoulders reminded him that he belonged, and the dancing lifted his spirits, once he was tipsy enough to join in. At some point Glenn must have managed to muscle his way into the house band, because Darryl noticed that the room was dancing to guitar covers of old hits this world had never heard before, with occasional harmonies supplied by Ron, who improvised words when he didn’t know the lyrics. Which was most of the time.

At one point, Darryl even paired up with the broad orc woman who had provided his outfit for the night. She whirled him around to Any Way You Want It and laughed when he breathlessly complimented her style.

‘I’m gay.’ She said, warily avoiding any possible advances.

‘So am I.’ He replied, just to see how it felt.

And the night went on.

He saw Henry a couple times, usually only long enough for a quick yelled exchange or some kind of clumsy arm-grabbing touch. At one point they found themselves at the bar together, and Darryl almost asked him to dance, but then the song had already changed and he hadn’t found his voice quick enough and they were both beckoned by strangers in different directions. He went for a little walk after that song, to clear his head a little. 

It really shouldn’t have been that hard to ask a friend for a dance at a party where everyone was dancing with everyone. He had danced with half the village, it felt like, but asking Henry felt different. More...loaded or something. A hug, vertical or otherwise, was one thing. A hug hides your face. But the thought of having Henry in his arms, of holding his hand, while looking right at him? And having Henry look right back? It made him shiver.

He went back inside. 

Food had been brought out, and the music had shamelessly come to a halt while the band joined the fray of hungry people grabbing meat and bread and fruits. The four dads managed to reconvene for the first time since the beginning of the event. 

‘Being a hero is hungry work, huh?’ Glenn grinned. He was very clearly enjoying himself and very clearly dabbling in more than just the local booze. 

Henry raised a knowing eyebrow at Darryl. His cheeks were a little flushed and he was eating grapes. Neither of those things were relevant, but Darryl noticed them anyway. 

‘Everyone’s loving the tunes, buddy.’ Darryl turned his attention back to Glenn.

‘Right? Who knew these random fantasy dudes had such good taste?’

Fueled by food and water, having picked the table clean, the partygoers descended back onto the dance floor with renewed vigour, and the music picked up again. But Darryl wasn’t really feeling it anymore. It wasn’t that he was tired yet, and he hadn’t overeaten, he’d just been taken out of the scene. He could hear this thoughts again, and his thoughts were starting to remind him that he wanted something that he had been trying not to want. He had hopes for this party that weren’t very likely to pan out in his favour. Brave enough to slay a demon but not brave enough to navigate a dance? He knew he wouldn’t survive high school if he had to go back. 

At some point in the early hours of the morning the inn must have been drank dry, because just after the crowd had paired off to the opening chords of Time After Time, Glenn slurred over the crowd,

‘Last dance, people. Make it count.’

The half-elf woman holding Darryl’s hand smiled, raising an questioning eyebrow. So he must have been making that face out loud. 

‘You alright?’

‘Yeah I’m just…’ Darryl ran a hand through his hair and bit down on the spike of nerves that shot through him. ‘I just realized there’s someone I need to dance with.’

‘So you’re just running off?’

‘No, no. We can swap! Look he’s…’ He craned his neck around until he spotted Henry across the room with the orc woman from earlier. ‘He’s with that tall lady, do you know her?’

‘Oh, yeah, totally! Let’s go then.’ Gripping his hand tightly, the half-elf pulled him through the crowd until they emerged in front of the other couple. Darryl felt himself freezing again, but he pushed it down, straightening his shoulders under the weight of the cape.

‘Mind if we cut in?’ He asked as the half elf held out a dainty hand to the orc woman, who very happily obliged.

As the two women twirled away, Darryl looked helplessly at Henry, who did nothing to close the space between them. For a few moments they stood, frozen, as the rest of the room moved around them. Blood pulsed in Darryl’s ears.

‘You. You don’t want to…?’

‘You haven’t asked me yet.’ Henry said. His face wasn’t cold or offended, it was hopeful, prompting Darryl on with a tiny subtle nod. 

‘Oh! Yeah, oh, of course, yeah, I mean. Can I…’ Darryl held out a hand, focusing all his energy on keeping it steady. ‘Can I have this dance?’

Henry smiled, a spark in his eyes that Darryl didn’t recognise. 

‘Of course.’ he said as gladly took his hand.

With as much care as possible, Darryl placed Henry’s hand flat on his shoulder and pulled him close with an arm around his waist as their free hands found each other. Their rhythmic swaying wasn’t particularly skilful or elegant, but Darryl wasn’t focusing on their form anyway. He was looking at Henry’s face.

‘I never got to tell you, you...look amazing tonight.’

Henry laughed, but there wasn’t a trace of mockery in it. It was just the sound of a smile so perfect that it had to escape. Darryl laughed too, at the absurdity of the whole situation, compared with the memory of what he had so recently considered to be the trajectory of his life.

‘Thank you.’ Henry replied finally, looking almost flustered, ‘You know, you’re not so bad yourself.’ 

The music washed over them. It made Darryl vaguely nostalgic.

‘I’m sorry for interrupting your dance, I just didn’t want to miss my chance.’ He took a deep breath and looked into Henry’s eyes. They were dark and shiny in the low light. ‘You know, I realized something.’

Henry squeezed his hand.

‘Me too.’ 

Darryl watched Henry’s eyes flicker away from his own and faltered a little, until he noticed that Henry was looking at his lips. 

_You’re in, Darryl. You got this._

Slowly, questioningly, Darryl tilted his head, leaving Henry to close the gap, which he did, wholeheartedly, as the last chorus came in. Henry’s lips were warm, and he smelled like cider, and the slow swaying filled up Darryl’s senses til he felt like he was floating. His ears pricked up at the sound of his name as Glenn worked _‘Darryl and Henry I can see you’_ into Cyndi Lauper’s lyrics like a disgraced teenager, and Henry’s hand briefly lifted off his shoulder to make some unseen gesture in response, smiling against Darryl’s mouth but not breaking the kiss. 

When they did pull away, Darryl couldn’t disguise the fact that he was grinning like an idiot as they danced out the end of the song. He didn’t stop smiling until his reverie was rudely cut into by the dwarven innkeeper, who was standing on the bar and hollering.

‘ALRIGHT, EVERYBODY OUT UNLESS YOU’RE GONNA HELP TIDY UP THIS KIP. IF YOU DON’T HELP, I WILL REMEMBER, AND I WILL PASS JUDGEMENT. ALRIGHT?’

There was a sudden bustle of noise and movement as a few dutiful villagers starting picking up as many empty flagons as possible, and everybody else rushed for the doors.

Henry squeezed Darryl’s hand. Darryl could have sworn that Henry’s hand squeezes had a little bit of that crazy magic stuff in them, because they sent currents through him that always made his heart skip.

‘Do you wanna go for a walk?’ He asked, emboldened and a little high on life.

‘Absolutely.’ Henry replied and, ignoring everyone behind them, they headed for the door.

**Author's Note:**

> I think Time After Time was in like. Napoleon Dynamite or something like that and ever since I've been obsessed with it as a cheesy, awkward but cute slowdance song. This was inevitable.


End file.
